


Fresh Soil and Vanilla Perfume

by misfitmonarchy



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst, Dead Claudia Stilinski, M/M, True Alpha Scott McCall, Werewolf Stiles Stilinski, sterek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-11
Updated: 2018-05-11
Packaged: 2019-05-05 03:26:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,988
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14608266
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/misfitmonarchy/pseuds/misfitmonarchy
Summary: When Stiles gets bitten it's not expected but they deal with it. They know how to deal with that. What they weren't prepared for was how his new senses would react to his childhood home. How they would react with aspects of HER lingering on every last floor board and dust bunny.





	Fresh Soil and Vanilla Perfume

**Author's Note:**

> This is just an over all very self indulgent one shot of something I put together the other day. Not sure if anyone else will read it but I've been meaning to post on here more often instead of hoarding all my half written ideas in files on my laptop where they collect dust!
> 
> enjoy! 
> 
> *trigger warning: most of this centers in on Stiles having anxiety (better safe than sorry)

Getting bitten by an alpha should have been more expected than they had been prepared for. Stiles has no idea why when they were planning out how to take down the rogue no one had figured that he’d be the one facing it down in the end. 

Of course he’d thought about it before- not just when he’d turned down Peter’s offer but when you were this deep into the whole supernatural debacle of Beacon Hills where apparently everything wants you dead and even more things want you worse than that; it wasn’t high on his list of surprises when he got bitten and turned. He’d just thought for some reason it would have been Scott who would give it to him. Maybe if he was dying after heroically saving the entire pack. Certainly not because he’d been cornered by the alpha with a busted steel bat and two fellow pack members unconscious and bleeding on the ground. 

It had hurt. In fact he’s pretty sure that Scott totally bullshitted about just getting up and walking home after being bitten because GOD he definitely recalls the searing fire in his veins. 

Stiles glared at his reflection in the car’s window as trees passed him by. He didn’t look different but that just made him feel worse. He felt like a whole other person- an imposter. A literal wolf in sheep’s clothing. But it had been over four days of staying at Derek’s loft and trying to learn control over this ridiculous super senses. Stiles had never realized how much it sucked to be able to hear every little thing in over a mile of you until he could very clearly hear certain bodily functions that no one wanted to know about. 

“Stiles?” Scott is looking back at him from the passenger seat of the camaro while Derek pulled into the driveway of his childhood home. Untouched by time that made him wish he was five again and his mom was inside making him and Scott peanut butter and banana sandwiches after a particularly grueling day of kindergarten. 

“Hm?”

“Where’d you go man?” He asks. Stiles wonders how much of the alpha instincts are pushing Scott to hover like a mother hen lately or if that’s just how Scott has always been. Then he recalls how this was the same guy who hung up on him while he was nearly drowning in the school pool and realizes it’s more than likely the alpha instincts. 

“Sorry. Zoned out.” The freshly turned wolf smiles tightly, grateful that Derek had been perceptive enough to pick a time the sheriff wasn’t home. Scott takes that answer but doesn’t to like how quiet Stiles has been. The brunette couldn’t blame him, usually he was bouncing off the walls but he still had yet to have the rush of ‘Oh my god i’m a badass werewolf’ and was still pretty hung up on the whole ‘i’m not a human anymore’ part of this situation. 

“Alright. C’mon we should get back before your dad is back.” He smiles, and Stiles takes a moment to appreciate how quiet Derek is being compared to Scott, because being coddled was starting to aggravate him a bit.  
“Yeah, okay.” Without further argument he got out and took a cautious breath. Inside the car had been nice, soothing that such a small space could only contain so many smells at once. Old blood, Derek, dirt from muddy shoes and the vague scent of exhaust. They mixed together in a way that wasn’t so overwhelming as much of the past few days had been. Luckily he’d gotten the majority of the sensory overload after two days spent quarantined at Deaton’s and then he’d been eased into Derek’s loft to adjust to being around other people. It helped that no one lived there but Derek and Derek knew how help without coddling him like a child. (Stiles thinks secretly thinks that he is finding his own amusement in it through small ways that he’s yet to figure out.)

Returning to the world around him Stiles has to take a moment to adjust. This driveway last Monday had been just a driveway. Now it’s a sea of scents that he has to swim through with every too loud step on the gravel just to make it up the steps to the front door. The wood of the patio creaks in a way he’s never noticed and he wonders how long it’s been doing that, why hasn’t he noticed that before? Did it always smell like gunpowder and sunlight on these steps? Did sunlight even have a smell or was he associating scent to feelings? 

God this whole thing was way harder than he’d been lead to believe. “I kind of feel like a dick now, for uh… assuming this was easy.” He admitted to Scott apologetically as he pulled out his house key from his pocket and moved forward to unlock the door when a suddenly smell over came him. One that he hasn’t smelled in long time and arched a brow at the other two. “Since when do you smoke?”

“What?” Scott recoiled, taken off guard by the question and glancing over to Derek who shrugged dismissively. 

“What do you mean what? Dad doesn’t smoke and neither do I so that smell must be one of you two.” He says before looking over to the quieter werewolf that was leaned on the railing watching him curiously. 

“Neither of us smoke Stiles.” Derek said before sniffing the air again. “It’s an old scent.” That didn’t settle his curiosity. In fact it made him just more curious as to who had been smoking on his deck so much that even after what Derek claimed to at least be a few years it still sunk into the wood and clung to it. 

Stiles made a sour face at the reply but went back to opening the door. “This is going to take some getting used to.” He says as he turns the knob to push it open. Stiles goes stiff in the doorway. His fist tightens on the doorknob significantly as scents overwhelm him all at once. But there is one scent that punches him so hard in the chest that he’s rendered speechless. 

“What?” Derek asks the second he notices the difference but doesn’t move from where he’s been leant against the railing of the porch still. 

Memories flashback to his kindergarten days, to lazy saturday cartoons and doctors visits because there’s no way even a six year old can have that much energy. Puzzles in the hot summer sun and the icy cold water of the beach waves touching his toes before they’re both running away to the hot sand where Dad takes pictures of them with a laugh. 

Stiles can feel the doorknob make a weird sound in his tight grip, belatedly he notices that the polished metal now has been indented with his finger marks. He still hasn’t moved more than a half step into the doorway, Scott is to his right and Derek is still behind them but all he can smell is her. 

“Stiles- hey what’s wrong?” There’s a hand on his bicep now, jolting him into a verbal response.

“I-” His voice comes out more broken than he meant for it to, yet he can’t seem to school it into anything better. “Th-the smell...“ he chokes out, sounding seconds away from either crying or throwing up. To be honest Stiles didn’t know which one he wanted to do more.

Probably both. 

“What smell?” 

“I can’t-“ A long shuddering breath rattled through him before he’s backing away from the door like the house is going to hurt him. 

Derek is clueless as he sniffs the air- there’s nothing out of the norm. The Stilinski home has always smelled the same way, gunpowder, whiskey, lemon scented cleaner, musty furniture that has probably been there since Stiles was a baby; lavender detergent, the distinct smell of the John and Stiles and fresh soil. He looks back to Stiles who is now stumbling off the porch and looks like he’s genuinely going to be sick, hands firmly clamped over his nose and mouth as if the air itself were poisoned. 

“Stiles, there’s nothing wrong. I don’t smell anything?” Scott gives the air a whiff too, but he agrees with Derek that there’s nothing amiss. What were they missing? What the hell had Stiles so spooked?

But Stiles is shaking his head so adamantly as if he doesn’t understand how the living hell they don’t smell that. 

“I can’t- I’m gonna puke-“ He stutters out before his breakfast is coming up, just as promised, in one of the bushes. Scott wrinkles his nose at that but Derek is already in motion.

He comes over quickly, soothing the distressed boy and glancing to Scott who takes the hint and goes inside to try to find what it was that was freaking Stiles out. Stiles lets out a sob as he empties his stomach, letting Derek support his weight a little as he wipes his mouth. 

“Dude, I checked the whole house; there’s nothing out of place.” 

Stiles shakes his head again. He can’t go in there. He couldn’t. He can’t. Not when it smelled so clearly of her. The brunette felt like his heart was going to rip itself in half as he refused to go inside. It ached in a way that if he wasn’t certain that he’d heal from just about any injury now, he might have been looking down at his chest and expect there to be something sticking out of his chest where it feels like he’s been shot. He hasn’t, but he sure feels like he has. 

How could Stiles go in there when all he could smell was someone who hadn’t been there in a decade? It was a smell that a kid just knows equates to a parent; no super senses needed for that. The smell was one that reminded him of that one ratty sweater he kept at the top of his shelf she’d worn pretty often before spending more time often than not in hospital clothing instead. It had lost the smell years ago but he still kept it tucked away. 

The other two are oblivious, of course they are. Though if he could manage to choke out words he’s sure that at least Derek would understand. 

“Stiles. You need to tell us what’s going on.” Derek says, and it’s not a question. He can tell because Derek looks worried, and that scares him a little because usually Derek being worried involves bad guys and blood. Stiles doesn’t usually let people see him this shaken. In fact Derek has only seen him cry one time and that was when his dad had been kidnapped, which might be what’s scaring the older wolf in front of him now.

“I... it’s like she’s here.. I can’t..” he stutters again but he thanks god that Scott finally lets it dawn on him as his lips form a small ‘o’. Stiles sit down on the ground, though it’s more of a collapse even with Derek supporting his weight. 

Derek furrows his brow. “Who?” 

Scott sighs and crouches in front of Stiles, giving him a sad look. “His mom.” He says softly to which Stiles just lets out another shaking breath. 

“I can’t go in there.” He says again with more conviction now. All he can see is memories of her at the end when the illness had gotten really bad. She would forget who he was, who shout he was a stranger. Sometimes on her really bad days she thought he was going to kill her, even though he was nothing but a nine year old kid. He can remember the night she died particularly well- he was with her. Of course he’d have that burned into his memory. 

“Stiles-”

“No. Scott.” 

“Alright then come to my place for a bit.” He says instead but Stiles is just shaking his head all over again. Scott’s house would probably be just as bad. Before she’d been sick they’d gone over for dinner a lot and spent holidays together or she’d pick him up after school. If her scent was still here it was probably still there too. In fact Stiles didn’t want to go anywhere but back to Deaton’s honestly. At least all that place smelled like was medicine and herbs. Nothing like his mom. No fresh soil from her garden that had since died when he and his father couldn’t stand to keep it alive and vanilla perfume. Nothing like the rare cigarette he was now remembering she would sneak when work was particularly hard. 

Derek was quiet for a while. He hadn’t even thought of that, as a born wolf being able to smell someone who was gone was more comforting than... well something that would feel afraid like Stiles was reacting. 

“You can’t just live outside, Stiles.” Scott says.

“And I won’t. I’ll go see Deaton and figure something out. I can save up and get an apartment and just move out before I planned. But I- Scott I can’t-“ 

“You can’t just avoid it Stiles!” 

“Oh shut up Scott!” He snapped back, his control was thready as it was without all the stress that he hadn’t even noticed his claws were out until Derek was making him uncurl his fists with big warm placating hands. Absently he could smell the blood from his hands but was still glaring at the alpha instead. 

“That’s enough.” Derek says gruffly. “We’ll figure something out. Alright? But you need to calm down, Stiles.” He says tersely, ending all arguments. Scott looked ready to fight back, more out of the need to have the last word than anything else. (Stiles suspects that is also an alpha thing.) 

Stiles ends up struggling through the next few minutes with Derek trying to calm down while Scott goes back inside to get him a bag of clothes at least. Stiles feels a little pathetic but buries the shame for later when he can be alone and properly cry over this in private. 

“Good. See? You’re okay.” Derek is saying but it’s like he’s far away. Stiles is just watching bleakly the doorway that doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to step through. It’s not that he doesn’t want to remember his mom. He does, in fact he thinks of her almost if not every single day; but he can’t handle more than the happy memories. He never really let himself off the hook for the things she would say during her illness. She’d been sick for 3 years before going in to live permanently at the hospital and passing away six months later where they had tried to make her just as comfortable as possible. He still hadn’t been able to pronounce his name back then and after she was gone he’d refused to even try. 

Scott returns with a duffle with clothes and his book bag that has his laptop and charger inside with some books Deaton leant him in case he wanted them. 

“I left a note for your dad that you’re staying the week at my place.” He says as he comes back, that sad look in his eyes that Stiles can’t stand. It’s the look Scott gets when something goes wrong, how he’s looked at him every time the anniversary comes along. 

Stiles just nods weakly before getting up and taking the bags. He can’t look at either of them and even though he’s only been at this werewolf thing a few days he has a feeling that sharp smell in the air is definitely his own embarrassment. Either way the drive back to Derek’s loft to figure all this out is silent and Stiles likes it that way. 

Stiles Stilinski is a lot of things but he’s not stupid, not by a long shot. So he’s really not surprised when Scott seems more clingy than usual. He’s probably thinking that by not leaving Stiles alone it doesn’t give him any time to dwell on the incident; but it really doesn’t stop the brunet at all. If anything it just reminds him more because Scott’s got this way of looking like a kicked puppy. That night he stays at Derek’s if only because he’s the one that finally makes Scott go home and leaves Stiles to his thoughts. 

“Thanks.” He says when the true alpha leaves. Derek just nods and offers to go pick up food from the place down the block. Stiles doesn’t argue but he stays firmly planted on the couch, narrowing his eyes in suspicion when his coat is tossed at him. 

“C’mon. You’re coming with me.” He says expectantly as Stiles stares at him blankly. 

“I don’t want to.” He mutters but they know it’s a lie, when his heart jumps and he sighs. Stiles can’t help but want to go, but he thinks that more because he’s a freshly turned wolf and he’s done nothing but stay hidden away inside the vet and then here up until since he’d turned. He hasn’t been out until this afternoon and that had gone awful. 

Derek raises an accusatory brow. He may not be an alpha anymore but that didn’t mean Stiles had stopped seeing him as one. There was just this air of ‘If nothing else Derek will know what to do. He can fix things if they go awry.’ around Derek that… huh. Stiles figures might need some looking into another time. Right now though his stomach was grumbling and he was shoving his feet into his shoes. 

“Shut up.” He mutters as he passes Derek on the stairs. 

“I didn’t say anything.” 

“You were thinking it though.” 

The lack of response is telling enough that he doesn’t glance back, he knows Derek is smirking behind him.

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know what you think! Comment below!
> 
> i'm [misfitmonarchythings](https://misfitmonarchythings.tumblr.com/) on tumblr


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